


The Safest Place

by RembrandtsWife



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Incest, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Oral Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:23:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13283007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RembrandtsWife/pseuds/RembrandtsWife
Summary: Wakanda is the safest place for Wanda right now.Right now Wanda is the safest place for Steve.





	The Safest Place

**Author's Note:**

> A follow-up to ["Another Country"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10493238). Not beta-read. The Stucky is background, mostly implied; the sibling incest is something Wanda remembers and talks about, but there's no direct depiction. Wanda just showed up in my head today and said, "Tell this story," and I said, "Okay, I'm at your disposal."
> 
> Note: Revised on 5/7/2018, but not Infinity War-compliant, so no spoilers.

The first thing Steve did, of course, when he got back to Wakanda, was to visit Bucky. T'Challa met him at the hospital and stood beside him while the doctors explained everything they had been doing for Bucky, most of which went over Steve's head. He was grateful for the explanation anyway, and for King T'Challa's quiet, unnecessary companionship. At least Bucky looked--peaceful. At least Steve could see him breathe.

The second thing he did, or the third, if you counted taking a long hot shower, was to visit Wanda. 

She was still staying in a small cottage on the palace grounds, the safest place for her. Of all the "rogue" superheroes, Wanda was the one Ross and his kind were most afraid of, except maybe for Hulk. Both Hulk and Bruce had vanished utterly, as far as anyone knew. Wanda was waiting for him at the open door of the cottage, dressed in a Wakandan gown, scarlet and purple, that left her slim arms bare. 

She offered him a hug and he accepted, letting go too quickly lest he cling too long. "You look good," he said, feeling as tongue-tied as he had in that car ride with Peggy to the secret lab in Brooklyn. Wanda had a flower behind one ear, luminous and fragrant. The scent of it seemed to cling to him where he had touched her. 

She raised her hand to his unshaven cheek. "You don't."

He met her eyes, soft, searching; was that how he looked at Bucky.... Without a conscious decision, he was pulling her into his arms, her mouth already opening for his kiss, her arms twining close around his neck.

There was food on the low table in the main room of the cottage, but Steve strode past it without a glance, carrying Wanda like a bride. Only the smell of the spices teased him, cutting through the floral haze; later, they could eat later. In the bedroom he let her go and kicked off his shoes, shucked the plain white shirt and khaki pants he'd put on after his shower. 

Wanda unwrapped the gown in one long spiral. Underneath she was bare, no bra or panties. She did look good: her breasts fuller, her hips and thighs filled out, a golden hue to her arms and legs that suggested sunshine and relaxation. Steve felt more than ever the grime he had washed off, the weariness in his bones, the unkempt hair and beard he had sported for months now, the hollowness in his chest.

"Come here," Wanda said, opening her arms. She was soft and sweet and impossibly strong, drawing him down onto the bed and lying down with him. 

She straddled him at once, pushing his shoulders down against the mattress. He liked the beds in Wakanda, firm and low to the ground. The pillows were cool beneath his neck; Wanda's fingers were warm as they cupped his face for a kiss, combed through his tangled hair, stroked his shoulders and chest and upper arms.

She shifted backwards down his body, bending to kiss his mouth, his chest, his nipples. His cock was hard already, roused by her movement over him, prodding between her legs. She backed further away so she was sitting over his knees and wrapped her small hands around his erection.

Steve let out a long, broken breath, an exhale that emptied him of more than breath. Wanda stroked slowly up and down the shaft of his cock while licking gently around the head. She cupped his balls, drew her fingernails over the tenderest skin of his thighs. Her hair fell around her face; tiny lightnings of scarlet wreathed it. With one hand planted at the base of his cock, she took it into her mouth and sucked. "Jesus!" Wanda laughed without letting go of him and coaxed him up with her hands, encouraging him to fuck her mouth. 

He was drifting in pleasure, still far from orgasm, when she let him go, only to rise on her knees and stroke herself, efficiently. Steve felt guilty about not doing anything for her, but she was in charge; he was only following her lead. She eased onto his cock, slick and open, rocking herself back and forth, making little crooning noises. When she was where she wanted to be, she reached for Steve's hands and laced their fingers together, bracing palm to palm. She met his eyes and smiled.

Steve let Wanda ride him until she was tired; she came twice, without any help from him except his unflagging cock. When she slumped on his chest, he turned her beneath him, planted his hands on the bed, and fucked her with the hard, fast beat he needed. She clutched him with biting fingers and wailed aloud, coming again as he spurted inside her. 

They lay there panting for what seemed to Steve like a long while; the room had gotten darker. He pulled away and dropped down heavily beside her.

"When Pietro and I were in Strucker's lab...."

Wanda's voice, low but clear, woke Steve from his doze. He stroked her arm to signal he was listening.

"There were times they left us alone. Just us. We had no one else. We were like animals in a zoo." She turned away from him, but went on talking. "They thought of us, perhaps, as the first of a new breed. We thought of ourselves as more the last of our kind."

She was silent. Steve caressed her hair, drawing it back from her face, getting more of that flower fragrance on his fingers. 

"Sometimes, when we were alone, we would... touch." Wanda stretched out her hand, cupped it, filled with red flame, as if to conjure up a vision. "When we got older...." She closed her hand; the flame went out. "We would fuck. At first the usual way; Pietro said, once, 'If they ever come for you, let me be the first. You will have that.' And we did." Her voice hitched. "But later, he began to worry, if I should get pregnant. Then if we fucked, he would only fuck me in the ass."

Steve breathed and listened. Let his hand drift down Wanda's arm to rest on her hip, and shifted closer to her. "Do you want that?" he said, at last.

In the darkness, he felt her nod.

He had to turn on a lamp to look in the drawer of the nightstand. The lamp was a piece of pottery shaped like a rock in a creek, with a crystal in the center; he waved his hand over it to light it. What he found might have been lotion or lubricant or both, but it would do. Once he had unscrewed the lid and cupped the little pot in his hand, he turned the lamp off again with another wave. He did not need light here to know what he was doing.

Wanda was lying on her stomach now, hands folded beneath her head. Her face was still turned away from him, but her spine was relaxed under his hand, her muscles loose. Steve ran his hand up and down her back a few times before dipping a finger between her buttocks, finding her sticky with her juices, his come. Could he get her pregnant? Probably not; she wouldn't be so careless. He pressed a fingertip into her asshole, feeling the tension, the cling. She made a small, smothered noise.

Lube, and patience. He and Bucky had fucked often enough without enough of either. In a hurry not to be caught, scraping Vaseline out of the jar if they were lucky, cooking grease if they weren't, and sometimes just rubbing off between the other guy's legs or his crack, maybe a little spit, maybe the head of his cock went in Bucky's ass anyway. They hadn't complained. 

Lube, and patience. Wanda's skin was so soft, so vulnerable, but he could tell she liked what he was doing. Liked the little circles he made, around and in, around and in. Took two fingers easily, lifting her hips to coax them deeper. Spread her thighs and she was wet, ocean-wet, when he touched her clit, and smelled of the fuck they'd already had and the flowers, the goddamned flowers--

She drew up one knee but otherwise stayed right there when he smeared a last dollop of lotion over his cock and her cleft and moved over her. His cock went into her ass nearly as easy as it had gone into her cunt, earlier. It was her turn to breathe out, let go. It was his turn to take his time, to vary the rhythm according to what he wanted: slow and deep, fast and shallow, fast and now deeper, making Wanda whimper and shake beneath him. 

Steve slowed down, pressed in, moved to lie on his right side, pulled Wanda back against his chest. His cock stayed seated in her ass; her hand came up over her shoulder to touch his hair, his face. One hand splayed on her belly, he began to move. He could bury his face in her silky hair like this, he could pull on her hard little nipples, he could push his fingers past her own and rub her clit, firm and demanding. Wanda cried out, repeatedly, clenching hard on his cock. He could even curl his fingers down and in and work that sweet spot in her cunt, so he did, and then he was coming hard, his mouth open against her slim shoulder, her nails digging into his arms.

He lay there in Wanda's bed for a long time, while Wanda drew away from him, left the bed, and went into her bathroom. He lay in his own sweat and come and listened to the sound of the shower running, the sound of weeping? or was she singing? He was still lying there, unable to move, when she came back and turned on the light.

She was wearing a thin cotton robe and a towel wrapped around her wet hair. "Steven. It's late. Aren't you hungry? You need to eat."

Her face was clean, open, gentle, the same as when he had shown up at her door, not knowing what he needed or wanted. She held out her hand, inviting him. He had never been able to resist a woman stronger than he was, so he sat up and took her hand.

"Yeah, I could eat."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [rembrandtswife on Tumblr](http://rembrandtswife.tumblr.com), and I write whatever the hell comes into my head. I also like birds.


End file.
